


long years spent away from her heart

by mollivanders



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, Gen, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Trauma Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: “I can’t really see what you’re doing,” she admitted, kneeling away from the lock. He’d strung a heavy chain between the two barrels of his desk, locked together with a Schuyler padlock. “Or I’m just not very good at it,” she admitted.He shook his head, kneeling down heavily next to her on his bad leg. “Anyone can learn,” he said. “I had to.” Making room for him in front of the lock, she watched him cradle the lock with one hand and pull the glove off the other with his teeth, dropping it on the floor; and suddenly, she had to remember to breathe.





	long years spent away from her heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lirazel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirazel/gifts).



> Written for queenofattolia for the Holiday Gift Fic giveaway with the prompt of caretaking and/or mutual pining set before the books. I finally was able to write it!

She didn’t sleep her first night at the Slat.

Kaz Brekker, the boy who she’d grasped at a thin twist of hope with, led her up the stairs to the third floor and pushed open a narrow door. She’d spied shared quarters from the stairwell landings and her stomach jumped with nervous fear.

 _We greet the unexpected visitor,_ her father’s voice echoed in her mind. _Something is about to happen._

“This is your room,” Kaz said, stepping aside to let her in. He lingered in the space outside the door, leaning on his crow’s head cane as he watched her. Tentatively, she edged inside and looked around. There was a narrow cot against the wall, neatly made, and an empty flat trunk that stood open. Her eyes fell on the window above the bed, catching the setting edges of the sun against the harbor.

“Whose room was this?” she asked, clutching the bundle of new clothes against her chest. The silks of Tante Heleen’s house shimmered in the soft gloom and her eyes darted back to the window. No bars.

“It’s yours now,” Kaz said, his voice a rough burn, low and empty. Turning, she realized he still hadn’t come in. He was still standing outside, watching her. “Get some rest,” he added, and turned away. “We start work in the morning.”

Watching him go, her heart slowed its race against time and she swallowed past the hard lump in her throat. Below her, the raucous sounds of the Slat drifted up and with a defiance she didn’t really feel, she tossed the new clothes on the bed. The last sounds of Kaz’s cane on the stairs fell away as she shut the door and, with some surprise, locked it. She hadn’t had a lock, ever. Not with her parents, and never at the Menagerie.

The silence of the room was almost overpowering. 

Quickly, the silks of the Menagerie came away, and with some relish she thought of burning them before pulling her new clothes on. Kaz had taken her to a dingy looking shop, but the clothes were functional, and dark. 

They suited her, and almost made her feel safe. 

(Almost.)

As she curled up on the bed, her back to the corner and eyes on the door, she didn’t close her eyes.

 _We meet fear,_ her father had said. _We greet the unexpected visitor._

When the first shafts of morning light drifted through her window, a sharp knock announced Kaz’s presence. He took one look at her and his mouth twisted in something she couldn’t quite name. It was unfamiliar to her; unknown; and yet still not a threat. 

(An unexpected visitor.)

“Let’s go,” he said, and led her down the stairs. “Time to get to work.”

+

The first time he called her up to his office, the fear from the days at the Menagerie fluttered back to life in her chest. She’d already laid out a member of the Dregs, heeding Kaz’s warning that he couldn’t protect her himself, but she worried about her ability to do the same to Kaz. Still, she tucked the stolen dinner knife she’d used on the other Dreg into her jacket sleeve before making the long ascent up the stairs.

“You’re late, Wraith,” he said, still looking at the papers on his desk as she entered. He was moving through a stack of records, scanning each and then moving them into another, larger pile on the floor. Glancing up, he took in her stance and frowned. “Close the door.”

She did, and stayed close to it.

“I want you to report to me each night on what you’ve learned,” he said, still by his desk. That signature crow’s head cane was leaning against the desk too, and she saw even now how he favored his weight. He was taller with the cane, she realized. Without it, he looked less like Per Haskell’s deadliest lieutenant and more like the teenage boy he was.

(She wasn’t fooled.)

“I don’t want anyone else to hear what you have to say,” he added, and looked over his shoulder at the window over his desk. “You can come in that way, if you like.”

Inej dropped her guard a moment, looking it over. “It’s locked,” she pointed out. “I can’t get in if it’s locked.”

Kaz shrugged as if this was irrelevant, ruffling his hair. “I’ll teach you how to pick locks,” he said, and then pointed at the records he’d been reading. “We keep records for Haskell,” he said. “But if you learn of anyone cheating, or snitching, you come straight to me. Not Per Haskell,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “I’ll handle it directly.”

She swallowed past the nervous lump in her throat and nodded, taking in the room itself, evaluating it. It _was_ an office, albeit it of the Barrel variety. His private quarters were separated off, and the door was closed. It was almost cozy.

(Almost.)

“So you want my report?” she asked and he nodded at her, tracking the distinctive bulge in her jacket sleeve. “And after that,” he said, “we’re going to get you a real knife.”

+

Inej discovered the vent over Per Haskell’s office six weeks after she started with the Dregs. She’d spent those first weeks stealing as little sleep as she could and spending the rest of her free hours familiarizing herself with her surroundings. When she’d found the vent, she’d lingered over it at the sound of Kaz’s voice, interrupted by Haskell.

“ – so wherever this intelligence came from, I don’t want you moving on the Dime Lions, you hear, boy?” She’d tiptoed closer, feather light footsteps against the flatboards. They were talking about the intel she’d brought Kaz the night before.

“The territory is there to take,” Kaz had growled back, and even from here she could hear his struggle to lace it with respect. “Pekka – ”

“Did that spider of yours get this, huh?” Haskell asked, and Inej flinched. Below her, Kaz’s eyes narrowed, his grip on his cane tightening. “You tell me why she warrants special treatment, Brekker.”

“The _Wraith_ ,” Kaz hissed, “has provided information which has increased your profits nearly twelve percent in the weeks since she came here. That is an asset worth protecting.”

Haskell scoffed, waving away Kaz’s claim. “Spiders come cheap, Brekker. You’ll bear her debt if she fails me, you hear?”

A thin smile crossed Kaz’s face, and Inej held her breath. “Is that all?” he asked, his posture easing, as if giving Haskell a dismissal. The old man could tell, but – for reasons that Inej was still deciphering – ignored it. 

“Report tomorrow,” Haskell snapped, and Kaz turned with a hard limp, leaving the room.

“All that boy brings me is trouble,” Haskell muttered to himself, and Inej held her breath as he yelled at the door, “Next!”

She stayed until Haskell was done with his interrogations, and then covered the vent with cleaning supplies. When she saw Kaz that night, and gave her report, some of the fear had eased from her chest.

“Is that all?” Kaz asked when she’d finished, his tone an echo of the rough burr from earlier. She hesitated.

“Per Haskell,” she started, and Kaz’s eyes snapped to hers. “Would he sell me back?” she asked, the question spilling out of her at last, and she almost wished she could take it back.

(Almost.)

“No,” Kaz said, and she frowned, staring at him. There was too much certainty in his answer for a lieutenant, a certainty she couldn’t bring herself to question tonight. “We’ll be kings and queens before then, Inej,” he said, and his grin was a thunderclap in her heart.

 _Careful, Inej,_ she thought, _the heart is an arrow_ – but couldn’t help the hope that burst inside her.

+

“I’m never going to learn this,” Inej hissed in frustration as she dropped the lockpicks again. She’d picked up the knife throwing he’d taught her, and she’d learned to brawl well enough by necessity. The lock was a totally different issue.

Kaz shifted his weight behind her, peering over her shoulder. The lock was Schuyler made, and according to Kaz, well within her skill set. Hesitantly, he reached an arm past her and gently changed the angle of her wrist in his gloved hand before quickly pulling away again.

She didn’t comment on it. She’d noticed, very quickly, that he rarely touched anyone unless it was to fight them, and never without his gloves. She’d wondered, along with everyone else, and then put it past her. 

“Like that, you see?” he asked, and she peered into the lock. “You’re trying to pick it by sight,” he said, moving closer, and her skin burst into gooseflesh against his breath. “It’s more by feel and sound.” He frowned. “I must not be showing you right.”

“I can’t really see what you’re doing,” she admitted, kneeling away from the lock. He’d strung a heavy chain between the two barrels of his desk, locked together with a Schuyler padlock. “Or I’m just not very good at it,” she admitted.

He shook his head, kneeling down heavily next to her on his bad leg. “Anyone can learn,” he said. “I had to.” Making room for him in front of the lock, she watched him cradle the lock with one hand and pull the glove off the other with his teeth, dropping it on the floor; and suddenly, she had to remember to breathe. In front of the lock, Kaz was transformed; open and enchanted. 

She flushed, catching her thoughts, and held her breath as she watched. Kaz’s focus didn’t waver as he produced a lockpick and slid it into the lock with careless ease.

“Behind me,” he instructed and she slipped around him, looking over his shoulder and trying not to crowd his space. “Angle it this way,” he said, and as she watched, he flicked his wrist and the lock popped open. He turned to look back at her and froze at her proximity. 

“I think I get it,” she said, ghosting away from him. Either she was hearing things or her heartbeat wasn’t the only one picking up its pace. Changing places with her, she heard him swallow as he pulled his glove back on, holding very still as she considered the lock once more.

If nothing else, she’d learn how to do this if only to avoid thinking too much.

She managed.

(Almost.)

+

Four months after she’d joined the Dregs, she got a taste of her first street war. She’d been out with Kaz, scouting a mercher’s house he wanted her to break into, when his attention snapped across the skyline.

“We need to get back,” he growled, pointing at a red glow across the city. “That’s Dregs territory.”

She’d helped him clamber down the building more quickly and they raced across the streets, Kaz pushing past the limp in his leg and making sure she was keeping stride with him. When they had to take cover in one of the minor gambling houses and work their way through the alleys towards the Slat, he took the front position to wave her forward, and then she mimicked him, leap frogging their way into safety.

The street was abuzz with rumors; the Dime Lions had attacked the Slat; the Razorgulls had made a play for the Crow Club; but whoever it was had missed and set off explosives in retaliation. It hardly mattered. What mattered was getting home.

When they finally made it to the Crow Club, she could see Jesper firing from a top window of the Crow Club and shot a look at Kaz.

“Stay here,” she instructed.

It was the first time she’d given him orders, and he listened.

Quickly, faster than she’d ever done in her life, she skittered up to the rooftops and made her way across to the Crow Club, dropping down into Jesper’s window. She could still see Kaz from where she’d left him, and at her word, Jesper shifted his guns to give Kaz cover fire across the street into the club. By the time they’d fought their way back to the Slat, regrouped, and retaliated, Inej could barely stand on her feet. 

(Almost.)

“That’s what it is, isn’t it,” she said, standing in Kaz’s office as the sounds of gunfire below died down. “That’s what life here is.”

_Better terrible truths…_

“Yes,” he said, watching her carefully. Not _sometimes_ , not _on bad days_. This was the Barrel. “Are you staying?”

Her choice was the answer to many questions, and she had a choice, she knew. If nothing else, Kaz had given her that. She could disappear, go somewhere the Dregs would never find her. Her saints would protect her. 

( _You’ll bear her debt if she fails me_.)

“Yes,” she said, and closed the door behind her. “What can I do?”

+

It had been a long week, in its own way. Kaz had sent her to meet Nina, and she’d made her way up the side of The House of the White Rose instead of taking the front door. The scent of the house was still overpowering and by the time she got back, she was losing the fight against sleep. Kaz watched her, frowning as she finished her report.

“Alright,” he said, and pulled his gloves back on, signaling his exit. He paused, considering. “I’m going out,” he said, and looked away. “All night. You can stay up here, in case.”

(In case Per Haskell had a job for her. In case someone in the Dregs got stupid. In case she was too tired to lock her door.)

It wasn’t safe. Nothing in the Barrel was – but Kaz was offering the only protection he had to give. It was the closest thing to safety there was.

“Thank you,” she said, and caught his gaze. “If you need me – ”

“I know where you’ll be,” he said.

She didn’t think about it beyond that. Once he’d left, she pushed the door to his quarters open, taking in the bed that was no bigger than her own, the cramped quarters leaving space for Kaz’s real work. She curled on top of the sheets, tired muscles giving way, and pulled a thin blanket over herself. Listening carefully despite herself, the familiar echo of his step followed her into almost dreamless sleep.

(Almost.)

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ladytharen](http://ladytharen.tumblr.com/) at Tumblr. I don't actually know how to pick locks but I have seen locks picked in movies.


End file.
